Second Best
by Renebre
Summary: A story about a love that is shelved for the sake of the one he loves. Neville/Ginny, Harry/Ginny.


AN: Here it is, signaling my return to the world of angst (?) Thanks to my new beta-reader *scans the crowd for **Static*** and points her out. I hope you enjoy. If you read it, please review it - thanks.

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SECOND-BEST LOVE 

Ginny watched Neville meticulously pick all the onions out of his goulash and set them aside on his plate. "I thought you liked onions." She said, spooning up some of her own goulash. 

Neville looked up, startled, his cheeks pink. "I do." He muttered. His cheeks turned pinker. "So I eat them all at the end." He grinned sheepishly at her, and nodded at her plate. "Why aren't you eating?"

Ginny set her spoon down, biting her lip. She nodded quietly at where Harry sat, next to Hermione. Neville's eyes softened in sympathy. "Ah." He said. He didn't have anything else to say, so he simply stuck a spoonful of goulash in his mouth and didn't look at her. Ginny almost smiled; Neville was so obviously uncomfortable. 

"It's all right." Ginny said, producing a smile with some effort. She shrugged. "I think - it's about time that I got over him anyway."

"Definitely!" Neville said, perking up immediately. "Definitely!"

"I mean - "

"Definitely!" Neville said, nodding vigorously. "Seven years is a long time to be liking someone. And he'll be leaving next year anyway. Might as well get over him now."

"And if he likes Hermione, well, game over, isn't it?" Ginny said quietly. "She's known him for what - far longer than I have, anyway."

"A whole year longer." Neville asserted firmly.

"And she's brilliant too -"

"Smart as paint." He solemnly vowed.

"And ever since she got her teeth corrected, she's much better looking."

"Much!" Neville averred fervently.

Ginny stared at Harry laughing with Hermione. He looked up suddenly and caught her eye. She looked away quickly. It was bad enough knowing he didn't like her. No need to make him think she was obsessive as well. "So, well, I'm over him." She said, staring down into her goulash.

Neville was grinning from ear to ear. "It's time you got a new boy to like." He told her. "Someone who you have a ch- someone who is, er-closer to your age. Someone who likes the same things you do. Someone who -"

Ginny groaned in exasperation. "_Not _Colin Creevey again, Neville! _Why _do you _always _fix on Colin?"

Neville flushed pinkly, but he went on, determinedly enthusiastic. "He's a great guy! And a brilliant photographer! You've seen his photos, Ginny -"

"Yes. I have." Ginny retorted. "I've seen all of them. Every single bleeding, black, pus-filled, oozing photograph he has."

"I agree that his subject matter is a little dark," Neville went on, "but they show talent. You have to admit they show talent."

"Wonderful. They show talent. I think I'd prefer someone with a different talent, Neville. Maybe butterfly collecting. Painting. Stuffing Every-Flavour Beans up his nose. _Not _taking photographs of bleeding, bruised animals."

Neville was disappointed. "He really is a nice guy -"

Ginny shook her head. "Not Colin, Neville."

They ate their goulash in silence. Neville didn't want to give up. "Well, who _do _you have in mind, then?"

Ginny blew through her nostrils in exasperation. "I don't have _anyone _in mind." She fixed a stern look on him. "Certainly not Colin, anyway." She stared into her goulash. "Why should I have anyone in mind? I just this moment decided that I'm over Harry."

"So you did, so you did." Neville said hurriedly. "No reason at all, certainly." He smiled brightly at her. 

"_Not _Colin, Neville."

Neville deflated glumly.

"Well, she doesn't like Harry anymore." Neville said, hurrying around the table, trying to keep up with the significantly longer-legged Colin. He recoiled mentally at the picture that Colin was hanging up to dry. 

Colin slanted a dark-eyed look at him. He was rather a good-looking fellow, all thin and dramatic looking, Neville thought defensively to the Ginny in his mind who was giving him a _look_.

'_You _go out with him, then', He could practically hear her saying. Neville flinched at the very thought and pursued Colin around the darkroom again, carefully avoiding the cans of developing solution. They smelled like vinegar. Vinegar and onions, Neville thought longingly. He brought his mind back to the task at hand. 

"What's that got to do with me?" Colin drawled. He frowned at the print in his hand and uttered a disapproving _tut. _"Ruined." He said morosely, and tossed it at Neville. "You keep it."

Neville fumbled and caught it. "What do you mean, what's it got to do with you? You were practically begging me to put in a good word for you last week." He turned the print the right side up and studied the photo. It was a magnificent shot of Fawkes soaring into the sky, wings stretched out in strain against a brilliant background of bright blue sky, so bright you couldn't help but squint at the print. Neville felt his heart thud in awe; it was such a raw display of rushing _freedom_. "What's wrong with it?"

Colin seemed to be answering his first question. "Last week." He sighed, in an unutterably weary tone, his hand flung over his eyes in a display of tiredness. "_Last week_, Neville. Any number of things could have happened since last week." He nodded at the photo. "It's not bleeding." He said incongruously, and it took Neville a few minutes to realize that he was now talking about the photo.

"What are you talking about?" Neville snapped, irritated. "What's happened since last week to make you stop fancying Ginny?"

Colin eyed Neville warily. "If you _must _know," he muttered. 

"Yes, I must, as a matter of fact -"

"Well, I'm gay."

"What are you talking about?"

"Remember when I was following Harry around in first year?" Colin gave a delicate shudder at the thought of his own gaucheness and focused his eyes on Neville, waiting for an answer.

Neville sputtered, "You don't mean to say -"

"Well, I do mean to say. Just found out myself." Colin eyed him critically. "I'm gay, Neville. You don't have a problem with that, do you?"

Neville glared at him. "I jolly well do have a problem with that! Who am I supposed to get for Ginny now?"

"It isn't your job to fix Ginny up, you know." Colin replied reasonably. "Plenty of guys fancy her - well, a few, anyway. There would be a lot more if George and Fred weren't related to her. And the girl knows how to dress -"

Neville was upset. "She needs someone. She needs a guy, especially now, since she's just gotten over Harry. I don't want her going back to him -"

"Why don't you just go after her, then?" Colin asked irritably. He scrutinized Neville. "You're all right looking, I suppose. It's a good thing you grew a bit after fourth year, and you lost that puppy fat too -"

"I'm her friend!" Neville choked in outraged dignity. The nerve, talking about puppy fat! At least _he _hadn't gone around taking photos of Harry Potter -

"Ach - you know you're in love with her, Neville."

Neville glowered, but slumped, defeated into Colin's red chair. "I jolly well am not." He said pathetically. "Does _she _know?"

"Of course not." Colin scooted up another chair, leaned into it and asked, "Why don't you do something about it, anyway? You two have been great chums ever since you went to the Yule Ball together. Girls love that. Friends always." He mimicked under his breath. "Then the next day they go all coy and you have to bloody start courting them again -"

"Well." Neville said, nonplussed. "I think I'll be going now."

Colin studied him. "Yeah. Whatever. Hang on." He rummaged around a drawer and plucked something from it's contents. "Here." He threw another photo at Neville. It was of Ginny, sitting with him in the Great Hall. "I was going to do some trick photography with it - you know, make it look like a mass murder scene." Colin explained, almost apologetically. "You can have it."

"You're a sick fellow, Colin."

"So I am, Neville, so I am."

Ginny popped a peanut into her mouth and offered the bag to him. "They're jolly good." She said, washing it down with some pumpkin juice. White clouds came out of her mouth, and she shivered slightly. "All salty and hot." 

Neville took one. He put it in his mouth gingerly, and it took all his willpower and a couple of dousings of pumpkin juice to stop him from spitting it out. It tasted _foul_. He suspected that each peanut was liberally doused in a barrel of salt, roasted, then salted again. He smiled weakly at Ginny, who beamed back at him and cheerfully popped another one in her mouth. "Good, aren't they?" she asked. She shoved the bag under his nose. His stomach almost burped out of his mouth at the smell. "Have another. I've plenty of money today." She jingled a few Knuts in her pocket. 

"They're great." Neville lied. He shook his head. "But I'm not very hungry." He amended.

"Shame." Ginny said through a mouthful of peanuts. "Oh, look, the game's about to start."

Neville pretended to turn to watch the Quidditch match - Hufflepuff versus Slytherin; it was a joke, the Hufflepuffs were miles behind Slytherin - but he couldn't take his eyes from Ginny. She looked perfectly contented, sitting there, round red cheeks above bright red scarf, munching on those disgusting peanuts, hair ruffled around her face, watching the stupid game. Neville felt a wave of protectiveness wash over him, followed by a sort of hopeless despair, after all, _he _couldn't protect her. He wasn't anyone brave, or anyone funny, or anyone like - like, well, like Harry Potter. 

But still he watched her. He couldn't help it, just like he couldn't have helped asking her to the Yule Ball. But he hadn't asked her first, of course, he had asked - with a jolt of surprise at the remembrance - he had asked Hermione. Then she'd turned him down, because she was going with Viktor Krum. Neville remembered the drama of those days vaguely, as if through foggy glasses. The drama had faded, after that the days just sort of melded into each other, everyday the same, with this girl sitting by him as a companion. There wasn't anything particularly exciting to remember, but Neville thought that he preferred it that way - everyday had been so - so sort of perfectly happy and contented. Even Snape's nasty comments sort of faded into the background, leaving only a faint tinge of bitterness. He wished - wished that he could spend the rest of his life like this - with her - 

Her hand brushed his and his heart leapt, and settled, again, as it always did. She passed him some chocolate frogs, and he remembered, as he looked down at the chocolate frog, of the time that Harry Potter had offered him one, in their first year, after a particularly nasty run-in with Draco Malfoy. He felt a sort of strange gratitude now, for that long ago kindness. 

"Something wrong?" Ginny whispered, her lips slightly puckered from the salt, her small face concerned. She frowned at the chocolate. "Is there something icky on them?"

Neville shook his head and took a bite. Ginny's face relaxed and she turned back to the Quidditch game. Ginny had an unholy addiction to Quidditch; he supposed it came from having six older brothers who were mad about it. 

The crowd groaned. Malfoy had snatched the Snitch right out of the air, and he was holding it triumphantly. The Slytherins went wild. The Hufflepuffs shrugged. 

Neville stuffed the remainder of the chocolate down his robe pocket and helped Ginny up.

Ginny just chomped on her peanuts and smiled.

"What are you doing sitting all alone?" Ron asked, leaning over the stuffed armchair across from Neville. "Where's Ginny?"

Neville looked up from the book he was reading to stare at Ron. "She had to stay back after her Transfiguration class. Why?"

"No reason." Ron said, dropping into the chair. Harry and Hermione, who had been hovering around, followed suit into two other chairs. "I just didn't see her today, that's all. That reminds me - Hermione, can I borrow your Potions homework?"

Hermione snorted disapprovingly. "Honestly, Ron, how will you ever learn if you don't do your _own _work -" 

"Just this once, Hermione -"

"That's what you _always _say -"

"Well, fine. Harry, can I borrow yours?"

Harry was grinning. "Sure. It's in my bag -"

The two boys got up, leaving a scowling Hermione. 

"They'll never pass their N.E.W.Ts." She predicted gloomily.

"I probably won't either." Neville remarked. You had to stick up for your own. He put down his book and carefully stuck his bookmark in. He looked at her squarely, the smart girl sitting across from him, and the words flew out of his mouth. He'd been thinking of saying them. He couldn't believe he'd had the nerve to actually say them. "What's going on with you and Harry?"

Hermione stared at him. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"Are you and Harry - like, a couple?"

"What? Me and Harry? I mean - Harry and I? You must be joking. Harry never thinks about girls, and besides, I like Ron -" She flushed. "I didn't mean to say that." She murmured. 

Neville looked up to see a gaping Ron and a grimly satisfied Harry behind Hermione. At first he thought Ron was just going to back away, but Ron appeared to steel himself and shockingly he said, "I'm glad you did."

Harry clamped a hand down on Neville's shoulder and quietly they removed themselves from the area.

"What was that all about?" Harry asked. He still had that satisfied look on his face. "How on earth did you get Hermione to admit it? I've been trying to do that for _years_."

Neville gaped at Harry. "I thought _you _liked her -"

Harry just stared at him. "Where'd you get that idea? Hermione and I are just friends - "

"But you're always together, and Ginny thinks you guys like each other -"

"Ginny? What?" Harry was starting to look confused. "Hold up, hold up. What's this about Ginny?"

Neville swallowed. "She thought you guys liked each other."

"Is that why she's started avoiding me?"

"I didn't think you'd noticed -" Neville mumbled, surprised.

Harry turned red. 

Neville's heart sank. Harry liked Ginny.

Neville's world underwent a terrible drop. If Harry liked Ginny, and Ginny liked Harry - where did that leave him?

Neville loved Ginny. He really did. He loved everything she did, everything she said, everything she thought. He _knew _her, knew her mildness, her lack of desire to fight for what she wanted, her laziness. He _loved _her. 

And now he had a chance, as he'd always wanted, to get her something that she really, really wanted and would never take for herself. He had a chance to hand it to her on a platter, a chance to make her happier than she'd ever been.

Part of him wanted to tell Harry that Ginny didn't like him anymore. That he didn't have a chance with Ginny now. That part was clamoring for attention, making his stomach twist in a despairing knot. Ginny would get over Harry soon, it said, just don't tell her now and you'll have a chance someday. You'll have a chance, and even if you're just her second choice then, it's better than not being a choice at all. 

And Neville swallowed again, and pretended to himself he didn't know there was anything else to say than what he was about to say, because if he did know, then he wouldn't say it - 

"She still likes you."

Because he loved her. 

Neville sat by the lake, watching the bright blue sky and the blue lake that looked white with the shimmer of blinding light on it's surface. He heard Ginny's light, tripping footsteps behind him, but he didn't turn to look at her. He couldn't bear to turn around and see what he had willingly given away.

Ginny stood in front of him and pulled him up and laughed. "Neville! I've been looking for you _everywhere_!"

Neville couldn't smile, he couldn't. Maybe he would be able to tomorrow -

__

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow -

But not today. He couldn't.

"I'm the happiest girl in the world!"

She hugged him, and he loved the feel of her in his arms.

He could see the years stretching out before him, with a sudden desperate clearness. Harry and Ginny, and him in the background, Ginny's forever friend. She'd always love him, and he comforted himself with that. It didn't matter that it would be second-best love, not really.

He was used to it.


End file.
